


Weird

by Batmanfan11



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Eskel mentioned, Geralt Self Reflection, Lambert mentioned, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, This is literally just geralts thoughts on his childhood, Vesemir Mentioned, i was trying to write porn and this came out i have no clue how, introspective Geralt, so very soft, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanfan11/pseuds/Batmanfan11
Summary: Jaskied asks what kind of child Geralt was at Kaer Morhen. Geralt has many thoughts but tries to answer them the best he can.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Kudos: 71





	Weird

**Author's Note:**

> This was suppose to be porn.
> 
> It's even labeled PORN in my word document, WHAT HAPPENED?!!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this. This is a one-shot in one sitting. Enjoy Geralt self reflection. Geralt is a soft-hearted boy!

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“What kind of child were you?”

Geralt stopped stoking their campfire and turned toward Jaskier’s face. He was sitting only a foot or so from him, quietly tuning his lute to the evening sky. All was relatively calm and quiet until then. They set up camp, took care of Roach, made out a little bit up against a tree, caught and ate some dinner, and now they were simply enjoying each other’s space. Jaskier, for all his blabber, knew how to be quiet, he just chooses not to be it most of the time. But in the calm of the forest, he knew when to open and shut his mouth.

Except for right now.

(And all the other times where Geralt was asked other invasive and noninvasive questions which Geralt subsequently answered, more or less.)

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Geralt asked, leaning back against the wooden log that was their bench a few hours ago. It was now covered in a soft fur to lean on while their bedrolls lay side by side next to the log. It was the comfiest they were going to get.

“Like, oh,” Jaskier rotated his hand and rolled his head back toward the star and then back to Geralt, “were you a good child? Did you always do what was asked? Or were you a delinquent? Did you get into a lot of trouble? OR were you a book worm, hiding out in the library. Now that I think about it, you are a bit of a monster nerd. Aw, I can see it now, little Geralt all snuggled up in some furs reading up on the latest facts on monster slaying!” Jaskier giggled as he gently gripped the neck of his lute and rubbed the side of its wooden frame.

Geralt huffed, crossing his ankles by the fire, the flames heating up his toes. He moved his arms behind his head, his palms cradling his skull against the log. His eyes glanced skyward, as if to find the answers up there.

Geralt heard the gentle _twange_ of the lute being set inside its case before Jaskier scooted his way toward Geralt to snuggle up next to him. His head was rested on Geralt’s shoulder and his legs were bent at the knee to entrap both of Geralt’s legs between his own. He looked quite comfortable.

“Three words or less.” Jaskier whispered.

He knew sometimes it was hard for Geralt to answer questions, especially when caught off guard. An alternative method was created to help him along, something they both could agree on.

Geralt thought on the right words to say, all while swinging one arm down to wrap protectively around Jaskier’s waist.

“I was…” He absently rubbed Jaskier’s side in thought, “weird.”

While that was not an answer Jaskier expected, but it was _something_.

“Could you elaborate on that, dear?”

So many different words were dancing in Geralt’s head, none of them good enough to describe his feelings or thoughts. He thought back to his stutter and how the boys would make fun of him for it. He thought back to his hyper fixation on monsters and how that interest made him a target for teasing. He thought back to the first time he decided to spare an opponent instead of hitting him because it wasn’t fair and how his instructor yelled at him in front of the entire class. He thought back to his sleeping habits, his fitful nights of longing for someone who would prove only to be the villain in his story. He thought back to the first time he cried in front of another boy and how he told everyone how “soft hearted” Geralt was and how weak that made him.

He thought of Eskel.

He thought of Lambert.

He thought of Vesemir.

He knew his answer.

“When one grows up with the intention of killing, those who chose not to kill are outcasted. I…” Geralt gripped his hand tighter to Jaskier, “was too soft to be a witcher. Many instructors didn’t think I would make it past the first trial. Those same instructors called me a ‘star pupil’ after I went through my second Trial of The Grasses.”

Jaskied knew when to be quiet but sometimes his mouth opened before his mind could shut it.

“I like it when you’re soft.” He said quietly.

Geralt looked at Jaskier in those big blue eyes of his, full of trust and truth. They stole his breath away more times than he could count, more than there were stars in the sky. And then he thought of his words, turning his head back to the sky.

He thought of those childish nights with Eskel and Lambert, talking way past curfew and giggling to each other like their whole existence wasn’t to be stoic monster slayers. He thought of the night he found Vesemir sitting somber in the library and approached him with unspoken trust to hold his hand. He thought of the young witchers he helped while still in school, those who were also teased and ridiculed, and showed them mercy in the shape of patience. He thought of his many chances to strike down foes big and short, only to grant them mercy in their faces of their own desperation for money, food, and shelter. He thought of the light in parent’s eyes return as he carried their lost or thought dead children back to them, even if no coin were in it for him.

He thought of a grumpy bard in drenched clothes looking like he was blessed with a gift from the goddess when given a warm cloak to wrap himself up in, even when Geralt himself was also drenched.

Geralt felt a warm hand cup his cheek and gently turn his head back toward said bard. He cupped Jaskier’s hand in his, curling his fingers under Jaskier’s palm.

“Three words or less?” Jaskier whispered, knowing Geralt wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“I do too.”


End file.
